


Open Fire

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex Pollen Petopher (written for a Petopher Secret Santa 2014)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/gifts).



> For moonlettuce/Claire

Peter stumbles out of the building and into the alleyway, huffing out steamy exhales into the night. Propping himself against a concrete wall, he struggles to get his bearings. He knows he should hurry – the hunters are bound to catch up to him soon – but he can’t quite string his thoughts together. His vision’s blurring and his brain feels like jelly, a useless mass of half-formed thoughts that sputter to a halt far too quickly for him to understand them.

He’s been drugged, he knows that much. The hunters managed to slip him something under the radar and he’s not sure if it’s meant to kill him or just incapacitate him until they can finish him off. Peter stumbles forward, feeling the world dip with the motion. He thinks he’s falling and reaches out to catch himself. His fingers grasp at air and after a few fumbling seconds he realizes he’s still standing. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he moves forward again, pushing past the disorientation so he can work his way toward the exit. If he gets out to the street it will at least put him in view of the security cameras. Until then, he’s a sitting duck.

Peter feels the world dip again and doesn’t realize he actually is falling until he’s landing onto the concrete. There’s a shout somewhere in the area, and he mentally curses. The hunters must have caught up to him. A gunshot sounds and Peter lifts his hand, too slow and too late to cover himself. It feels like his limbs are moving through molasses and he slurs something unintelligible but probably inappropriate.

Were Peter more aware of his surroundings, he’d realize that the gunshot actually came from Chris, who was firing at the hunters and, as a result, saving Peter from definite torture and probable death. But Peter’s not more aware, so when Chris comes to his aid, he lets out a growl. It’s muted and weak from his drugged state, but it makes Chris falter nonetheless.

“Peter?” Chris says, looking at the wolf’s flushed face.

Peter hears the noise like it’s coming through water and he blinks, trying to work out the man’s face through glassy eyes. Chris is blurry and dreamlike, but recognizable, and Peter feels slightly relieved. He tries to tell the hunter that he’s been drugged, but it must not come out right, because Chris frowns and asks him a confused question. Peter isn’t entirely sure what that question’s supposed to be, because it just sounds like ‘burble burble burble,’ so he just kind of makes a noise and hopes for the best.

Chris stares at the wolf for a second before shaking his head and reaching forward, giving up on conversation and focusing on getting Peter the hell out of there. Peter feels Chris’ hands through his clothing and in a split second everything changes. Need spreads through his body like wildfire. Peter’s vision clears, his eyes honing in on Chris and seeing nothing else but the hunter in sharp detail. He takes in the stubble on the man’s jaw and the subtle shine on his skin, where sweat’s built over the day, and comes to the startling realization that Chris is _gorgeous._ It’s not much of a realization when it’s something he’s thought for ages, but now it seems horribly significant, like an overplayed song that inexplicably feels fresh and new again.

Peter leans forward, summoning the last of his strength to press his lips to Chris’. The hunter stills. Peter’s artless in his kiss, just barely managing to move his mouth before he breaks away with a pained shudder. His forehead drops to the hunter’s shoulder and he pants. Clenching his eyes shut, he tries to will away the agonizing staccato that his heart beats against his eardrums.

Chris talks, presumably trying to fill him in, but Peter doesn’t understand what he’s saying. He doesn’t understand much of anything at the moment. Chris moves, lifting him up and Peter blinks, trying to clear his vision as the world sways. His gaze flickers down to Chris’ mouth and his body thrums with desire.

Before Peter can try to kiss the hunter again, he’s being dragged toward the mouth of the alleyway. Everything dips and flickers and time seems to move in his periphery, leaving him disoriented and trying to figure out when he got in the passenger seat.

Chris is driving and music’s playing on the radio. City lights pass outside. Peter reaches across the gap of the console and wraps his fingers around the arm of Chris’ jacket, feeling the warmth of his bicep underneath the material.

The hunter says something to him and Peter leans forward, burying his head in Chris’ shoulder. It’s probably not a good idea with the man driving, but Peter’s not quite sure there’s a better idea when Chris feels so _good._ He’s warm and perfect, like sun-heated bed sheets in the morning, and Peter can’t bring himself to break away.

He’s not sure where the moment goes, but he’s left grasping for clarity when the car stills and Chris disappears. He blinks at the darkness, struggling to figure out where the city went. There’s nothing but a lonesome cabin up ahead, tucked in the middle of the woods. He doesn’t recognize it and he doesn’t much care, because Chris is back, grabbing hold of him and pulling him out of the car.

Peter thinks idly that he likes it rough, and his lips move of their own accord. He’s not sure how it made out in the translation from thought to spoken word and he can’t read Chris’ reaction since his attention gets wrapped up in tracing over the pattern of scruff dipping down the hunter’s chin. Peter leans forward, letting his teeth run through the coarse hairs. He shudders and his eyes flash as he tastes Chris on his tongue. The flavor cuts rough, razor-sharp and moonshine-smooth, and Peter decides that he likes it. Licking against salt and musk, he hums.

The cabin’s warm and Peter finds himself dropped down on a soft surface. Chris moves about and Peter watches the ceiling spin above him. The hunter returns soon enough, illuminated by lamplight, and he stands at Peter’s bedside, staring at the wolf contemplatively. Peter blinks and Chris starts talking, trying to impress something on him, something important that he can barely make out. The wolf nods, because it seems the best response, and then Chris is stripping.

Peter knows he’s drugged out of his mind and he should be very concerned about the turn this has taken, but Chris’ body is coming into view and it’s like watching the birth of a great work of art. Peter feels his breath stolen from him. His blood roars, pumping loudly in his ears, and his lips part on a gasp of pain and desire.

The hunter crawls on the bed with him and Peter moans, finding his strength finally. He moves, grabbing at Chris and clinging on for dear life as the universe turns over.

Peter’s back hits the bed for a second time and Chris’ hands move under his shirt, pushing the hem away and pressing his palms flat against burning flesh. Peter groans, bowing into the touch.

His shirt is pulled away. Nude flesh presses together and he pants, tucking his head into the side of Chris’ neck. He exhales warm puffs of air and feels the hunter shudder. Peter arches his stomach against Chris and trembles at the feeling of the man’s happy trail sliding over his skin. Chris’ chest is covered in thick hairs and the friction leaves Peter aching with need. He moves his hands down, pressing his fingers into the curves of the hunter’s ass and groaning. Chris says something and Peter gathers from the inflection that it’s a curse. The hunter pulls away as best he can and scrambles for Peter’s pants.

The wolf’s clothes and shoes are pulled away and then he feels Chris pressed against him fully. Peter short circuits. He thinks he blacks out for just a second, and when he comes to, Chris is pressing slick fingers against his hole.

“Yes.” Peter hisses, rocking his hips down against Chris’ hand. The hunter pants into his neck and Peter whines, arching his head back and bearing his skin for the man. Scruff prickles his flesh as lips press open-mouthed to his throat. Peter pants. He clenches his eyes shut as his body pleads for Chris to penetrate him.

A digit presses inside and a keen gets trapped in Peter’s throat. His mouth parts on a silent sound as he feels Chris push into him. Chris talks again, asks him some sort of question, but Peter only makes out the sound of his name at the end, ringing crisp and clear in his ears. He nods his head and rocks up, head falling back against the mattress as Chris’ digit goes deeper.

Peter’s thighs shake. He splays them open, leaving himself vulnerable to Chris’ ministrations. A second finger enters him and, sparking with desire, his hole contracts, sucking the intrusion in. Chris’ hesitance fades and he thrusts. Peter’s breath hitches. He writhes, one hand scrabbling into the sheet and the other clutching at Chris’ bicep.

His leaking cock is so hard it hurts. Peter thrums with the need to come and he arches hastily into Chris’ movements, letting out a pitiful “please.” His rationality’s gone, totally stripped away. He’s lost all sense of himself under a haze of hormones, but part of him remains – the part that wants Chris, the part that’s always wanted Chris. Peter’s nose fills with the man’s scent. It arcs through him like a current and in a fit of strength, he pulls the man flat against him, whining. Chris’ chest hair scrapes against his and Peter practically growls from satisfaction.

Chris grumbles and his hand works between them, moving down to his cock. He uses saliva as extra lube, because Peter really doesn’t give him a lot of option, and the wolf wriggles, rocking his cock up against the man. His hole twitches, desperate and eager. Chris presses forward, head pushing against a burning hot, welcoming entrance. Peter stiffens, grabbing Chris’ shoulders and looking down between them. He blinks bleary eyes and watches Chris’ hips progress. The tip of the man’s dick slips in and Peter moans, body sparking like a firework. Chris moves forward, steadily, slowly, until eventually Peter’s staring at the sight of his thighs resting against the top of Chris’. He lets out a hiccupping breath and shudders.

Chris’ cock presses deep inside him, pushing up against nerves and tender flesh. It’s an intensely intimate connection that has Peter whining and rocking against him. Chris curses, reaching down to steady Peter’s hips. He waits until the wolf’s as secure as he can be before thrusting forward.

Peter cries out, his back arching and his head falling onto the bed. Blissed out and high as a kite, he holds helplessly to the man as Chris moves in and out, filling him up over and over again.

“Peter.” He hears Chris say and his nerves flame.

He gasps for breath, feeling hot and strung out. His nerves sizzle, a desperate fire fanning out in his veins, and he presses his hand into the small of Chris’ back, pulling him in. When he’s flush against the man, he moans in relief. Chris’ lips attach to his neck and Peter’s not sure if it feels like the earth is spinning out of orbit, or if everything’s finally snapping back into place, but it’s perfect either way. Perfect, he thinks, and just a little bit destructive. A little chaotic. A little bit of that ‘right, wrong, right, wrong’ feeling that Peter craves and he breaks past Chris’ hold to rock onto the man’s cock like a lifeline.

Chris fucks back into him and Peter whines, babbling incoherently as the man moves. He isn’t sure what he’s saying, his head still swimming and his eardrums full of static. He must say something right, because Chris shudders and clutches at him harder, thrusts into him faster. It’s eager and rushed and sloppy. It’s a fucking mess and Peter debases himself blissfully.

He feels his ass contracting around Chris’ cock, twitching rapidly as he sucks the hunter in. Sweat and cum smear along his entrance and his dick leaks, trailing liquid along Chris’ happy trail. Peter barely remembers to breathe, almost forgets how to as his world boils down to pleasure.

Chris’ thrusts grow more erratic and Peter feels 1, 2, 3 more deep intrusions before he goes taut, gripping at the hunter and spilling between them. His breath freezes in his lungs and his groin throbs, restless contractions from both ends leaving him shuddering. Chris pants against his shoulder, his hands moving down to grasp at Peter’s thigh as the wolf’s twitching hips bring him over the edge. Peter lets out a soft moan when he feels Chris spill inside of him.

The wolf collapses back on the bed. His sweaty back presses into too-warm sheets and he stares up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Chris’ flushed face appears in front of him.

“Peter?” He asks.

Peter leans up, pressing his lips against the hunter’s. His flesh tingle as Chris kisses him back. The hunter lets it go for a few moments before pushing Peter down into the bed. He pets fingers through the wolf’s hair. When they’ve settled, he rearranges them, pulling out of Peter’s entrance so he can lay down beside him and spoon. The wolf groans in disappointment and curls against the man’s body, trying to ignore how empty his hole feels as fatigue wears down against him. Chris wraps his arms around him, letting the wolf snuggle into his warmth.

***

Peter wakes to the smell of pancakes. He blinks his eyes open and sees dawn light coming in through the window. He’s in a cabin, staring at the sun rising up over the mountain top in the distance. There are trees everywhere and Peter retains a grumble. He hates trees. And cabins. And pancakes.

Mostly he just hates mornings, which accounts for his disagreeable attitude.

Peter’s grumpiness doesn’t fade, but it lessens when he takes in the smell of gunpowder and sweat and a very distinct musk that he can’t give any other name but _Chris_. Not that he’s given it a lot of thought, because he’s far too reasonable and busy to spend time on foolish, fanciful notions. He isn’t Derek, he tells himself insistently (and often.)

The thought would be easier to hold onto if he didn’t currently have hormones raging inside his system. He’s not cloudy anymore. He can think now, at least, and he has more control of himself, but he’s hard and he wants. More specifically, he wants Chris, which unfortunately isn’t unusual for him (even if he’d never admit it) but is made worse by the fact that having Chris is more of a possibility now.

“I know you’re awake.” The hunter says.

Peter lets out a dispassionate humph and keeps staring out the window. There’s a moment of silence and he sighs. “I wasn’t hiding it.” He points out, because it’s true. He just doesn’t want to move. His dick’s tenting up under the sheets and his fingers itch to touch.

“You hungry?” Chris asks.

He probably is, but he’s not sure. It’s hard to tell past the lust. “No.” He answers.

“The drug’ll take a while to wear off.” Chris says. Peter glances back at him and sees him naked with a spatula and a frying pan. He licks his lips, turned on by the domesticity and nudity. “We should talk about it.” The hunter says, turning the stove off.

“We never talk about anything.” Peter points out.

Chris looks at him sternly. “You never want to.”

Peter rolls his eyes and drops onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes he hates that he can’t just ignore Chris. He wouldn’t, though. They have a history together and even points in it when they were, dare he say, friendly. He’s not sure what they are now, with the sex adding a whole new spin to it. Maybe they’re something else entirely, somewhere past tolerant or friendly and into something…better? Peter’s not too hopeful, though. He’ll settle for different. He’s always been a friend of different.

“What do you want to talk about then?” He asks, listening to Chris grab plates.

“We had sex.” Chris points out.

“If you could call it that.” Peter mutters.

Chris freezes. “What would you call it?” He asks.

“First Aid.” Peter says cheekily. He looks over at Chris, at the hesitance and slight relief on his face. “Oh stop that.” He snaps. “I wasn’t going to say rape.”

Chris nods doubtfully.

“Idiot.” Peter grumbles.

“That’s not fair.” Chris says.

“Isn’t it?” Peter asks. “Would you have done this for anyone else?” He asks. He’s initially trying to make some sort of point, but he forgets what it is when curiosity takes over. He looks at Chris, eyes narrowing as he waits for the man’s answer.

“They’re all children.” Chris protests, judgemental and disgusted.

Peter snorts. “Derek isn’t.”

Chris’ nose wrinkles. “Don’t even go there.”

“Why not?” Peter asks before pressing on. “If it had been my nephew in the alleyway, what would you have done?”

“I’d have called you.” Chris says.

Peter’s lips purse and he eyes the hunter disapprovingly.

“Not like that, jackass.” Chris says. “But Derek’s not my problem.”

“And I am?” Peter asks.

Chris frowns. “You were last night.” He says.

“What about now?” Peter asks, rising up on his elbows and looking at Chris challengingly. “Whose problem am I now?”

Chris cocks an eyebrow, studying him. His eyes flicker down to where Peter’s erection is featured prominently under the bed sheet. “You really wanna do this?” He asks.

“I’m not here for pancakes.” Peter replies, eyes twinkling.

Chris snorts. He steps forward, around the table, and eyes Peter. “I make good pancakes.” He assures the wolf.

“I’m sure you do.” Peter says, watching him eagerly.

Chris approaches, abandoning the breakfast. “We really should talk about this.” He says. The bed dips as he crawls onto it and, rather than respond to the hunter’s statement, Peter lurches forward, grabbing Chris’ around the neck and pulling him close. Their lips connect, Peter’s hungry and determined. Chris is slower and gentler, but Peter moves quickly, corrupting the hunter’s mouth with his desire.

The wolf shifts, sliding out from the sheet and pushing Chris back into the bed. He straddles the man, eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of unclothed flesh between his thighs. Coarse hairs slide against his own lush legs, catching on strands of darkened curls, and Peter could live in that feeling. He blinks his blue eyes down at the hunter, struck for a moment by the soft light hitting golden skin.

He leans forward, capturing Chris’ mouth. Now that he’s more coherent, he can feel everything. His tongue traces the chapped layers on Chris’ lips and, past that, the moist, silk blanket of his gums. He trails over harsh edges of teeth to the man’s tongue, luxurious and pillow-y. Chris tastes heady and rough, whiskey and electricity combined, and Peter’s mind flashes back to hazy memories of last night.

He lets out a soft sound, desperate and involuntary. His fingers clutch at Chris’ scalp, holding the man’s head as he ravages him. It’s an instant obsession, kissing Chris, and Peter’s already forgotten his other intentions. A ridiculous, hormone-addled part of his brain thinks he could walk to the ends of the earth just to feel Chris’ mouth on his.

The hunter’s digits thread through Peter’s hair and he kisses him like they’ve been doing this forever. His other palm presses flat to Peter’s back and the wolf shudders, cock twitching at the contact.

Peter shifts, moving his legs so he can lay down on top of Chris and feel all of him. He relishes the noise Chris makes in response.

The hunter’s scent fills Peter’s nostrils and goes right to his head, making him dizzy. He’s addicted to the building aroma of arousal and attraction, spiking the man’s perfume with something spicy and agonizingly beautiful. They both pant for breath and Peter’s hand trails over Chris’ torso, moving down to clutch at his ass. And fuck, it’s an amazing ass.

Chris nips at Peter’s lip and a noise catches in his throat.

“Lube.” Peter gasps. Chris’ hand moves back, digging in the sheet. They kiss while Chris searches and by the time he finds it, they’re on their sides, legs tangled together and cocks hard between them. Peter’s itching from eagerness and he steals the liquid quickly. Chris leans back, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “Gonne ride you.” Peter says.

“I wasn’t protesting.” Chris assures him, which is good, because Peter will penetrate him at some point. Or maybe not, he thinks, realizing he can’t count on this being a reoccurring thing for them. They’ve gone from years of lingering tension to diving into bed pretty quickly and lord knows how that’s going to play out.

Rather than linger on that thought, Peter opens the lube, slamming his lips against Chris’ while he slicks up his digits. He presses his index finger against his hole, moaning as he presses into the tender flesh. He’s already twitching, body eager for it.

Chris’ mouth leaves his and the hunter looks over Peter’s shoulder, watching the wolf finger himself. “Fuck.” Chris curses and presses a kiss into Peter’s collarbone.

“That’s the idea.” Peter gasps, shoving a second finger in, because he’s impatient and he can feel Chris’ cock pressing into his thigh, beautiful and hard. He wants it again, wants to see if it feels as good now as it did last night.

Chris bites at Peter’s neck. He sucks a hickey into the skin that leaves Peter breathlessly fucking back onto his hand. The mark fades quickly and Peter wonders if Chris is disappointed.

“Enhanced healing.” He mutters as Chris studies his neck.

“I know.” The hunter says, pecking the skin. “I like it.” He confesses.

“You do?” Peter asks, surprised. He presses a third digit in and holds back a groan. It feels good more than it burns and he knows he’s ready for Chris to fuck him.

“Yeah.” Chris answers. “I can leave as many as I want.” He says before biting him again.

Peter moans and his ass tightens around his hand. “I’m ready.” He pants. He’s almost reluctant to take his fingers out, because he doesn’t want to feel empty again, but with the promise of Chris’ dick, he extracts himself. Chris lubes up and Peter watches him, waiting with frozen lungs and tensed muscles. When Chris is done, Peter’s leg hooks around his hip and he reaches down for the hunter’s cock, guiding it to his entrance. Chris nips at his lips and Peter’s breath hitches. His eyelashes flutter as he presses Chris into him.

Chris’ dick stretches and fills him, feeling like heaven as he slides inside. When he’s all the way in, Peter allows himself a moment to relish it, panting and shuddering at the sensation.

When his raging hormones have settled a bit, Peter pushes Chris back onto the mattress. He straddles him again, sitting himself down on the hunter’s lap and gasping. He blinks his eyes. Meeting Chris’ hooded gaze, he lifts himself, hissing at the drag of Chris inside him. He pushes back down, neck arching as he moans. It’s open fire and uncontrolled bliss, stealing his senses and filling his body with something so intense he can’t even describe it.

Chris feels better than he did the day before. Now that Peter’s not out of his mind, not fading in and out, the whole of Chris, each hair and inch of skin, exhilarate his senses to the point that he’s almost high from it. He wishes he could blame it all on the drug, but he knows that’s only part of the equation.

“Fuck.” Peter whispers. His fingers dig into Chris’ chest, holding onto the man as he impales himself on Chris’ cock.

“Peter.” Chris gasps and Peter’s heart races. Each nerve springs open on desire and he pants, rocking up and down against the body beneath him. Sweat meets in the middle and their bodies slide and burn together, friction leaving longing and ruddy patches of skin in its wake.

Peter’s dizzy and elevated. Chris holds him, serving as both a grounding force and a maddening one. Peter’s lips find his again, panting pleasure against rough lips and a hungry tongue.

“Chris.” He gasps when a space opens between them. Chris’ hand fishes between them until it finds Peter’s groin. Peter cries out and his grip tightens when he feels fingers slide over his dick. It all becomes too much at once and his hips jerk, torn between the intrusion in his ass and the hand on his cock.

Peter grabs Chris’ wrist and takes the hand away, freeing himself from the overwhelming pleasure. He laces their fingers and presses Chris’ arm back into the sheet. Chris lets out a questioning sound, but Peter just bites the man’s lip before riding him harder, bursting with an influx of energy as he rams himself onto Chris’ dick.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Chris chants, head arching back and body trembling beneath him.

Peter floods with satisfaction. He throbs, heart pulsing in his groin as he gets closer. He’s so on edge, so full of joy from Chris, that he knows he’ll come any second. He clutches at the hunter and rides him, clinging to the smell of Chris’ rising arousal and listening intently to the man’s moans.

Peter tumbles over the edge just a split second after Chris and he gasps, arching and feeling himself get filled up as he let’s go. Burning hot liquid torches his inner walls and he moans, wishing it could last forever.

It doesn’t, of course, and soon he’s collapsing on top of Chris and panting in the aftermath.

***

Peter gasps and shudders, clinging to the dining table and arching back. Their half-eaten breakfast is on the floor with their fallen plates. Peter had been fine with breakfast, but he’d wanted to get fucked more, and Chris was only too eager to fulfill the request.

A particularly harsh thrust has Peter’s eyes flashing and his claws digging into the table. Chris huffs out a satisfied laugh against Peter’s shoulder blade.

“You did say you liked it rough.” He observes. Peter has no idea when the hell he managed to work that into the conversation but he’s glad he did, because Chris is fucking brutal and Peter loves it.

Chris’ fingers twist in Peter’s hair, holding his head into place as he slams into him. Peter’s groan, deep and guttural and all-too-eager, works in tandem with Chris’ movements. He’s tone-deaf and dumbstruck as he scratches nails through rustic oak. Splinters form around his digits and he blinks at them, moaning across fangs as his eyes flutter between celeste and sapphire.

The more the drug seems to wear off, the more he goes out of his mind when Chris touches him. He almost can’t handle it and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when he comes, spraying pleasure on the cottage floor while Chris’ mouth sucks at his neck.

***

That evening, Peter learns that being inside Chris is heaven too. The man hugs him, grips him tight, and Peter loses himself in the hunter. Years of wanting slot into place and each touch steals more of him, binding them together.

As night approaches, Peter starts to wonder if he’ll be able to give this up or if he’ll only keep wanting more.

***

“What happened to my clothes?” Peter asks curiously on the second night. Chris is behind him, his naked body a wall of security against the cool mountain air. A fire’s going in the fireplace, warming his front. Peter hears the wind howl outside, blowing branches against the side of the cabin.

“Why?” Chris asks, lifting his head and studying the side of Peter’s face.

The wolf snorts. “You scared I’m gonna run away if you give me pants?” He asks.

“Maybe.” Chris confesses. “Would you stay if I kept you naked?” He asks, breath hot and voice husky.

“Depends.” Peter says. “But I’m not above running naked through the woods.”

“I’m not above chasing you.” Chris promises.

Peter grins. “Kinky.”

“I could make it kinkier.” Chris says.

“I could too.” Peter assures him.

Chris presses a kiss against the side of his neck. “Depends on what?” He asks.

Peter has to think back before he figures out what Chris is referencing. “You’d have to give me a good reason to stay.” He says.

Chris lifts himself, resting his head on his elbow and looking down at Peter. “And what would that be.”

Peter meets his gaze and debates. “I don’t know yet.”

Chris studies him a moment before his lips quirk and his face softens into nostalgia. “Do you remember that one trip we made for Ms. Bolanski’s class?” He asks.

Peter recalls it instantly. It was two decades ago, but it’s clear as day. It was a field trip to Yellowstone. They’re bus ended up breaking down and they’d had to stay at a hotel near the park. Peter had snuck out and stumbled across Chris, who’d made a group of friends by sneaking alcohol onto the trip.

“When you got drunk and made an ass of yourself?” Peter asks. “Of course I remember that.” It’s one of his favourite memories.”

Chris cringes. “Mary Winsworth.” He grumbles.

Peter grins. “You asked her to marry you, said you’d been in love with her for two months. Then her boyfriend punched you.” He recants, beaming.

“You enjoyed that way too much.”

“It’s the only reason I stuck around.” Peter says.

“I did wonder.” Chris says. “You always did spend most of your time alone.”

“That hasn’t changed.” Peter muses.

“It really hasn’t.” Chris says. A moment of silence hits them before he speaks again. “I almost kissed you that night.” He reveals.

Peter looks at him, surprised. “What? When?”

“When you were taking me back to the hotel.” Chris says. Peter’s eyes widen. “You didn’t think I remembered that, did you?”

“You were very drunk.”

“I wasn’t that drunk.” Chris says. “I sobered up after Steve took a swing at me.”

“You were slurring.”

“I wanted you to think I was drunk.” Chris says. “Because then if I…if I did kiss you, you’d blame it on the vodka.”

Peter watches him, struck by this revelation.

“I had the biggest crush on you back then. Captain of the basketball team, smart, gorgeous.”

Peter resolutely doesn’t blush. “Awkward. Gangly.” He throws out there, not because he’s modest, but because he’s seen the pictures. Chris though, Chris had been stunning.

Chris reaches forward, tracing his finger across Peter’s bottom lip and watching him with a sort of awe. “Beautiful.”

“I never thought of you as sappy.” Peter says. He thinks it’s ridiculous, all things considered. He’s still Peter Hale and he’s still done things that don’t warrant comments like “beautiful.” But here in the cabin, right now, maybe he doesn’t need to be that guy.

Chris smiles. “I never got to be sappy with you.”

Peter shakes his head, amused. “So why’d you almost kiss me?” He asks.

“Because you were talking to me, and you were nice, and you had these little freckles on your nose. I didn’t notice till that night.” Chris says, tracing his digits over Peter’s cheek and to the ridge of his nose. “Still there.” He notes, dotting the freckles with his fingertip.

Peter’s skin heats under Chris’ touch. “What about Mary?” He teases. “I thought you were in love with her.”

Chris’ lips twitch. “Not her.” He admits. “The person who sat next to her.”

Peter nods in realization. Chris was always staring in their direction, he’d just assumed it wasn’t at him. “I think the drug’s worn off.” He notes.

Chris nods.

“We’ll have to go back.” Peter says, reluctantly.

Chris sighs and hesitates.

Peter frowns. “What?” He asks.

Chris debates a moment before answering. “When I found you, I was on my way out of town.”

“You’re leaving?” Peter utters, horror twisting in his gut.

Chris shrugs. “Doesn’t seem much point in sticking around.” He says.

Peter feels the mood dampen significantly. He really can’t think of a reason Chris should stick around. He’s got no family here now, and Peter’s certainly not going to ask him to stay for his sake. It’s premature and he’s not one to make promises. He scrambles to come up with an incentive for Chris to stay, but there doesn’t seem to be one. It’s not like Peter’s really got anything keeping him around either, except that he hasn’t thought of going anywhere else.

“When are you going?” Peter asks.

“I’m not sure yet.” Chris admits. “I was going on Tuesday, but now…things are different, aren’t they?”

“Don’t stay on my account.” Peter warns.

“I’m not going to.” Chris says. “But I could postpone for a few more days.” He offers. His fingers trail over Peter’s skin and the wolf feels warmth lurch in his chest.

“You’re not gonna tell me where my clothes are, are you?” He asks playfully. He doesn’t see what a few days will do. It’s not like anyone’s really going to worry about him, and he disappears all the time as it is.

“I’ve been waiting too long to get you naked.” Chris promises. He leans forward, enveloping Peter in a kiss, spelling the end of the conversation.

They don’t fuck this time. Instead, Chris takes him in hand, stroking him steadily. Peter returns the favor, feeling the weight and girth of Chris in his palm. They take each other over the edge, panting and gasping into each other’s mouths, before they curl up and go to sleep.

***

A week of sex and pancakes and it’s pretty much a no-brainer when Peter gets into the passenger seat and decides that, hey, he can go with Chris, right? That’s not, like, a big deal?

It is a big deal. Peter’s got millions of reasons, stashed away in various safety vaults across Beacon Hills, of why it’s a big deal. But he can always come back and Chris doesn’t need to know that he’s abandoning his worldly wealth for some good dick (and okay, maybe love’s got a little something to do with it, but again, Chris doesn’t need to know.)

It’s a temporary arrangement, but he has a feeling Chris’ leaving is temporary too, so it’ll probably work out alright.

They hit the road and Peter idly thanks god for sex pollen, or whatever those hunters gave him, because he’s feeling pretty good. And horny, but by the look of things, Chris is ready to take care of that for him.

“We’re not gonna get very far at this rate.” Peter notes when Chris pulls over. They’ve made it about two miles and there’s a lot of Beacon Hills left to get through, but Chris hovers over him, eyeing him hungrily.

“Shut up.” The hunter says, pushing his seat back.

“Bossy.” Peter notes.

“You like it.”

“I’m adjusting to it.” Peter says, flushing when Chris’ hand trails up his side.

“You better.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter smirks. Chris grins and pulls him into a kiss. It’s going to be an interesting trip, Peter thinks, before losing himself in the hunter.


End file.
